


The Dance

by Lisbetadair



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 17:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13722324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisbetadair/pseuds/Lisbetadair
Summary: John MacTavish returns to Hereford after the events of Modern Warfare. Tired of all the death and destruction, he decides he wants to remember what it’s like to live. A chance encounter with a ghost from the past might be just what he needs.Explicit slash fic, rated MA and not for under 18s.





	1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Modern Warfare, nor Call of Duty, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

 

It was a shite funeral. I don’t know what I was expecting, really. I’ve heard people say that they’ve been to a good funeral, even a _great_ funeral, but it’s an experience I’ve never shared. Perhaps it’s a more joyous occasion when someone has succumbed after a painful illness, instead of meeting a grisly death in the arse-end of some dismal foreign shitehole?  Obviously, it’s worst when you know the poor cunt that’s in the coffin, and, worst of all, when you saw them meet that grisly end right in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.

It’s been three months. It still fucking hurts.

I came out of duty and that’s it: to pay my respects and then fuck off. They said it would help, would bring me closure, but just made me really fucking angry, and having to sit there in that stuffy church, listening to the sniffling around me and being slowly garrotted by my own tie, well that just made it worse.

There was no way I was going to the wake, obviously. It’s bad enough feeing responsible for someone’s death, and I knew that I wasn’t going to forgive myself if I ended up punching some dozy rupert after a hard afternoon on the bevy: so I went for a walk. I sneaked past the widow’s entourage, feeling like a total coward shite-bag as I did so, and stalked off. A few familiar faces were watching me, but I just left them to their silent judgement. I’d paid my dues.

I was just walking aimlessly at first, with an underlying sense of general frustration. Headed up towards town and then took a right into the playing fields. Being a dreich day in January, the place was empty and that suited my miserable mood. I did a lap around the place, sullenly kicking the stones that had the misfortune to find themselves in my path, but it didn’t help.

Eventually, I found myself on the bridge, and I stopped. I was heading up to Castle Green, almost like I was on autopilot. If I’d been asked a few months ago whether I thought it was appropriate to go out fuck-hunting after a funeral, I’d have said no, of course it fucking wasn’t, but that was then and this was now. I was sick of feeling like this: tired of all the death and dying, and thoroughly sick of my own company. 

Leaning out over the rail, I could see that the river was swollen beneath me, heavy with the fall of the winter rains. It was strangely hypnotising, watching the rush of the water as it swept underneath my feet, the turbulent surface rippling and swirling. I just let my mind drift with it, wishing that I could just wash my troubles away and emerge, fresh and clean on the other side.

I was so busy daydreaming that I didn’t see him until he had stopped, just ten feet away. I nearly jumped right out of my fucking skin.

“I heard you were dead.” I said, hoping I didn’t betray the fact that he’d just scared the shit out of me.

He smiled: the same smug, wry smile that used to drive me crazy, and shrugged. “So people keep telling me.”

 I hadn’t known him too well: he’d been quiet, self-absorbed, serious, and had an ability to cross even the most arduous route across the Welsh hills like a cross between a pack mule and a gazelle. Not traits that are going to win my undying love during selection. At the time, I had wished that he’d break his fucking ankle or something, so I had felt quite guilty when I heard that he’d died of something nasty in the jungle in the next round. Except that he hadn’t; it had just been one of those shite rumours that fly about every few weeks. Nevertheless, it had given a few people a fright when he turned up, out of the blue, two stone lighter and several shades paler:  a ghost version of himself.

I had only heard all this, of course, because when he sauntered back into town I had been chasing Zakhayev junior several thousand miles away. I remembered him differently, but a lot had happened since I’d seen him last.

Unlike me, who’d started the summer water-fat and bulky from hitting the weights, Riley had been rangy and lean. There hadn’t been a spare ounce of fat on his body, and I knew, because I’d looked, surreptitiously, and then checked back a few times to make sure. I didn’t think there was any harm in window-shopping.  I knew he was interested, of course, but I needed to focus. I wasn’t coming back next winter and freezing my bollocks off because I’d fucked up the first time. I had no idea that he was still around; I had lost track of things.

“So, you got better?” I said. It was clear that he’d eventually shrugged off whatever had tried to shove him off this mortal coil. The fabric of his jacket was straining across the back of his shoulders, even more than I remembered it doing. He’d obviously put the work in to get fit, and then some.

“Apparently.” He replied. “Got recycled.” He sighed.

“Bastards.” I shook my head.

“Still, made it in the end.”

“Oh?” This was news. I was clearly well out of the loop. Still, it cheered me up a bit, knowing that I would at least have some eye-candy to look forward to. I looked him up and down. He was still wearing the same worn-out, leather bike jacket he’d turned up in the first-time round. As he leaned on the railing, it rode up over the waist of his jeans, allowing me full view of his well-rounded arse.

“Yeah?” I replied. I wasn’t good with small talk. I had already guessed that we were here for the same reasons, but I didn’t know if Riley had vetoed me already.  I personally didn’t give a monkey’s about work-life boundaries right now. Riley’s firm arse was definitely the best one I was going to find today.

He straightened up, driving his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, pushing back his jacket and then he slouched, one elbow on the railing, to stare out over the river, as if unconcerned by our conversation. My gaze immediately dropped to his subtly displayed crotch. As if I was in any doubts over his motives at being here, there was an undeniable erection straining between his legs, pushing proudly out at his partly buttoned fly.

For a moment, I hesitated, yet I knew what I wanted. I could feel my cock stirring, answering the unasked question before my mind could butt in with the ethics of fucking and funerals. Riley clearly wanted the same thing that I did, and this time, I didn’t have the excuse of having anything else to focus on. In fact, I was looking for quite the opposite. Besides, was I really going to turn down the opportunity to find out if he was as good a fuck as he looked, or that I had fantasised he was?

He cocked his head, looking at my slyly through his half-closed eyes. _Fuck it_ , I thought. I glanced around quickly to check there were no prying eyes and slid my hand down between the flaps of my parade jacket to nonchalantly rest on my crotch. I liked to make sure all intentions were clear.

Riley sized me up. I watched his tongue run across the edge of his teeth like a wolf appraising a particularly fine steak, and then he jerked his head to the side, indicating a path into the open space of the green. I raised an eyebrow. It was barely two in the afternoon. Even though the place was deserted, it would be pretty risky, not to mention fucking freezing.

“My flat’s just up the road.” He said, answering my unasked question.

_Oh, aye?_ I thought. _Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly._ I nodded in agreement. Whatever shit-hole Riley lived in, it would be better than trying to have a sly fuck in the cold dead leaves. I wasn’t about to explain a frost-bitten ball sack to the medics.

It turned out that I was to be pleasantly surprised. Riley lived up on the main road, and after about five minutes of detailed study of his arse as I followed him along the street, I found myself in the clean front hall of a modern flat decorated in tasteful, but anonymous, shades of beige. I was impressed. My own place was a fucking tip, by comparison.

“You want a drink?” he called as I threw my jacket over the back of a chair and loosened my tie. It felt like I could finally breathe again.

_Why the fuck not?_ I thought. “Aye.”

“Whiskey?”

“Whatever.” I said, flopping down onto the couch.

Admittedly, I did feel a bit weird. Usually, if I had some mutual arrangement with one my comrades in arms it was one of minimal contact. I’d be lying if I had said that I wasn’t a bit nervous: it was Riley’s turf, not mine, but it was good being in from the chill; although the cold hadn’t dampened my erection. I slid my hand between my legs again, keeping myself occupied by teasing the head of my cock through the fabric. My hands were too cold to be any closer. I had no idea how he wanted to play things, so I just did what I normally would and hoped for the best.

After a few moments, he reappeared and thrust a glass into my hands. I had been expecting some cheap shite out of the supermarket but a quick sniff filled my nose with a pleasant, smoky aroma that told me this was the real thing.

“The good stuff.” I observed, rolling the liquid around the glass. I was secretly impressed.

Riley didn’t reply. He sat his own glass, which appeared to be filled with a generous measure of vodka, on the coffee table, and took off his shirt. I watched with interest as he threw it across the room to land on another chair and dropped onto the sofa beside me.

I shifted my weight. My cock was plaintively whining about its confinement. Riley’s body was even better that I remembered it. He’d clearly been busy in my absence, because his torso was thick with delicious muscle. For some reason, seeing him half-dressed was even more exciting than seeing him naked. The top button of his jeans was still undone, the thicken denim loose around his rock hard stomach. He took a swig from his glass and then dropped his head back, eyes half-closed, onto the back of the couch.

I followed the thin brush of reddish hair across his stomach onto the expanse of his chest. It was a magnificent sight. I wanted to fucking jump him. I wanted to have him, right there, on that couch. Not doing so was a significant test of my will power. He rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes. I held his gaze, and without looking down, popped open the hook holding my trousers closed and slowly, still staring back at him, pulled down the zip at the fly.

My cock sprung free almost immediately, tenting up the fabric of my pants and pushing out, ready for action. I slid my hand beneath and gripped it gently at the base, gently squeezing the balls between my hand and the hard space between my legs.

Riley watched me for a minute and then decided he wanted in on the action.  Still saying nothing, he shifted closer and reached over to slide his hand along my thigh. I’d had no human contact beyond the clinical in three months, and it made me edgy.  Riley clawed his fingers along the fabric that covered my leg. My nervousness betrayed me, and my leg stiffened involuntarily. He just smiled, and slid his hand up towards my crotch, pushing my own hand out of the way to gently grip the shaft of my cock, cupping my balls in the palm of his hand.

My whole body tensed as he squeezed gently. There was a danger here, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a _major_ fucking turn-on. Riley had something of the dark about him, an air of quiet danger. I had no idea what way he was kinked, but I was really keen to find out. The hint of a smile on his lips, he found the head with his thumb and started to rub across it, teasing me. I had to remember to breath, and when I exhaled it came out as a trembling growl. _Fuck!_ I shut my eyes, and tried to relax into it, but he was driving me fucking _crazy_ already.

I could feel his breath on my skin as he leaned close to me and switched hands. I knew he was going to touch me, but when I felt his fingers close over my tit I had to bit my lip. This wasn’t how I had imagined it, but it was fucking _brilliant_.  I opened my eyes and Riley’s face was inches from mine. I couldn’t control myself. I had no idea if he was into it or not, but I just went for it and kissed him, _hard_.

For a moment, I thought he was going to tell me to fuck off, and then his lips parted to kiss me back, welcoming me in their warm embrace. I was in ecstasy. I kissed him like a schoolboy, desperate and yearning. I had never kissed a man like this for a long time. It was too easy to get attached, to get involved, but today I just needed to be with someone, to feel the warmth of someone else beside me, to know that there was life left in the world with me. 

I felt the remains of his stubble rasp across my face as he moved his lips on mine. I was pushing so hard against him that it hurt, but I didn’t care. I slid my hand along his arm, feeling the power in his tense biceps and ran my hand up, over the broad, hard muscles of his shoulders and along his neck to pull his face closer.

 “Jesus Christ!” I said, as I stopped to catch my breath.

Riley didn’t reply. Clearly, he wasn’t into pillow talk. He didn’t even look at me. He just gripped the waist of my pants firmly and pulled them down to my thighs. My cock jerked free for a second and then he took it in his mouth.

I should have known he’d be good at this, because he’d moved his tongue on mine with an expertise that I’d not imagined he’d have. My back arched as his lips closed around me, his warm tongue sliding over the head, exploring every inch of it. I moaned involuntarily and bit my lip as he forced the tip of it into the slit; I was in heaven.

My cock was throbbing now, and each slow suck served only to drive me closer. I breathed through gritted teeth. Riley seemed to sense this, and, letting the tip of his teeth brush across the skin of my cock as he did so, he withdrew and stood up, his own fingers fumbling at the buttons of his jeans. I lay there and watched him.

His cock was already hard as he pushed down the fabric of his pants and gripped himself. I knew that Riley was well-hung, but this was the first time I had seen him in full, erect glory. I pushed myself upright, licking my lips. If Riley thought he was good with his mouth, I had a thing or two to teach him.

I slid my mouth across his cock, gently caressing the shaft of it with the very edges of my lips: stroking it, teasing it. Riley had a strong musk, and I loved it. I brushed my lips across the supple skin of his balls and breathed deep, inhaling the heady scent of him. Gently, I lapped at the base of his cock, just tickling the skin. Creeping back and forth along its length, I reached the head and, relishing the faint, salty taste, I closed my lips around it. I heard his breath catch as I slowly began to suck, moving further along the shaft with each inhalation, until I had the full length of him. It’s a neat trick, and by the noise he made, I had clearly impressed him.

“Bloody hell!” he said, and it gave me a kick to hear soft ecstasy in his voice as he spoke.

I withdrew, dragging my teeth along the skin and pressing just hard enough across the head to make him squirm. Keeping just enough pressure to hold him with my mouth, I rolled my tongue across him, hard. He shuddered.

Whilst I kept him occupied, I reached up and slid my hands underneath his pants, gripping the cheeks of his arse tight in my hands. I wanted to fuck him, and I wanted him to know that. As I started to build up a rhythm, I massaged his firm arse, spreading the cheeks apart, kneading the muscle beneath my fingers.

He growled, and as I worked my fingers closer to the cleft of his arse, he started to lean on me, giving me better access. I pushed him forward and slid myself around his legs like a cat until I was staring at the solid muscle of his cheeks. I pulled myself onto my knees, and spread them, revealing the delicate, fawn skin of his hole hidden between them. He growled as I pushed my face into it, driving my tongue inside.

The scent of him was overwhelming, and it was making me even harder. I really needed to fuck him, and soon. I gripped myself with one hand and held his hip with the other. He was leaning on the sofa now, the force of my head pushing him forward as I nibbled on the plump flesh that surrounded his arse. He groaned and shivered with pleasure. I _had_ to have him: _now_.

I fumbled in his pockets, cursing myself for not being prepared and then inwardly sighing with relief when my hands closed over the magic silver packet. I was well practised, and in a few seconds, I was ready.

Keeping his cheeks spread, I spat between them and then I stood up. Riley stayed where he was, his body rigid with anticipation, bent with his arse proud and ready, leaning over the back of the seat. I pressed myself against him, engaging but not entering. I wanted him relaxed, so I reached round and started to work at his cock again. He shuddered as I gripped him, his arse clenching and then he relaxed.

I seized the moment, and using the element of surprise, pushed myself inside. Riley buckled and growled: an animal noise that reverberated through his whole body.

“Fuck!” he gasped.

I waited for a second and let him get comfortable whilst I teased at his balls before I eased my whole length inside. Riley was pretty tight, and he felt good. I started to rock, gently thrusting my pelvis forward, taking delight in watching his arse rise and fall with the motion. He moaned as I rolled over the bulge of his prostate.

“That’s really fucking good.” He said. “Really fucking _good_.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear. I really wanted to fuck him and fuck him hard. Every movement made my cock throb harder, and I could hardly bear it. I slid myself out until I was almost free and then rammed my cock inside him.

Riley roared: a sound of pure base pleasure. I gripped his hips, slid back and thrust hard, again, pulling him back against me, into me so that I could wrap my arms around him. I wanted to hear him scream, feel him writhe against me. I slid my hands across his chest and drew his tits between my fingers, tugging hard enough to make him cry out and then I thrust deep into him again.

“Fuck yes!” he growled.

“Aye, you like that?” I said. “You like a hard fuck?” I punctuated the last word with a further driving thrust. Riley groaned. I took that as a yes.

I was so close now, it was impossible to keep control. I really wanted to, really _needed_ to come. I started to move more quickly now, thrusting deeper and faster. The sensation was unbearable. I heard myself making a sort of whining noise, but I couldn’t help myself. I was desperate, yearning for that release. My balls tightened and I felt it start, the building flood of pleasure I’d been waiting for. I let it rise, and then it hit me full force. I just lost control, frantically ramming my cock deep inside, bellowing and roaring like a wild thing.

When it finally abated, I just stood there, swaying, with Riley’s body pressed against me. My heart was pounding in my chest for the first time in months.

This was what I’d been craving. This was fucking living again. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter 2 **

I’d imagined myself being happier, but the truth was that I didn’t feel any different. I suppose I’d been thinking about it for so long that it was a bit of an anticlimax. The meeting itself was just a formality. If they had really wanted to bin me, they would have just done it. Still, protocol has to be observed: innocuous small talk, and some bog-standard questions about my physical and mental health. At the end, they asked me what I thought as if anyone really gave a shit. Of course I wanted back in, otherwise I wouldn’t fucking be there.

I’ll admit it: I’d expected _something_. Instead I’d got a quick handshake and found myself back outside in the freezing February drizzle. _Welcome back, Sergeant MacTavish._ I thought, to myself, of course. No one else seemed to care much. They hadn’t even told me which troop I was going to be joining; although I suspected that no one was fighting over me, just in case being the sole survivor was going to turn out to be a chronic affliction. I might as well have had fucking herpes.

With nothing better to do, I set off towards the canteen. Now that I was officially back in, I felt they at least owed me a free brew, and being honest, now that I was behind the familiar barbed wire, I realised how much I’d actually missed the place. Nothing seemed to have changed much, and if there wasn’t a neat circular hole in my thigh and a fuck-ton of bad memories, I could almost convince myself that none of it had happened at all.

 _“_ All right, stranger?”

I lurched forward at the unexpected slap between the shoulder blades and turned to see a familiar face grinning wildly at me.

“Tony!” I exclaimed “Jesus, mate. You nearly scared the shit out of me there!”

He laughed, a big, booming sound. I remembered Tony: B squadron veteran and most favoured with the oddball assortment of Regiment groupies. It was easy to see why: a Glaswegian _Italo-scozzesi,_ last son of a frying mafia, he had the Mediterranean good looks and the local roguish charm that only occasionally descended into chib-waving rage. I had liked him, even if we'd not crossed paths too often.

 “I tried to get into the meeting, but some dozy bastard fucked up the schedule.” He continued.

“Oh?”

“Did they not tell you that you were joining us?” His brow furrowed.

I shook my head. “No one fucking tells me anything.” I shrugged.

“Ach! No one you’ve got a face on you like a slapped arse! That’s no fucking good!” He shook his head. “Come on, we’ve got some time for a chat. I’ll bring you up to speed.”

I had never been so glad to see Tony in my life. Not just because he was the bearer of good news, but because getting me out and into the pub was life-saving. I’d been going out of my nut in the flat, numbing my mind with day-time telly, but no matter how far I tried to push it to the back of my mind, I found myself being constantly reminded of last week’s error of judgement.

After the post-orgasmic haze had settled, an awkward chill had come between us: a cocktail of latent guilt and unfamiliar surroundings on my part, mostly. I’ll admit that Riley was, at least, a gracious host, even if I declined his offer of a shower, and answered his tentative enquires into my weekend plans with non-committal grunts. Finally, he flat-out asked for my number.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea, do you?” I had said. It was a loaded question, and I’d designed it that way.

“Whatever.” He replied, shrugging. He put his hands on his hips, and I suspected that if he hadn’t been completely naked, he would have rammed them deep into his pockets to give the impression of casual flippancy.

I had looked him up and down, and the image had burned itself into my memory, coming back to haunt me whenever my libido peaked: the broad, rippling expanse of his stomach, his no-fucks-given expression and his strong thighs with what lay in between them. I lay in my bed that night and it was all I could think about.  There was something about Riley, something that excited me in a way that previous anonymous fucks hadn’t. I tried to tell myself that it was just the thrill of doing something that I shouldn’t with another Regiment boy, but this wasn’t the whole truth. There was something about him, something dangerous, and it turned me on in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

As I lay there, pumping myself into another lonely, sticky oblivion, I knew that I was in too deep. I had been thinking about him every night that week, and it was burning me. I hadn’t even considered what was going to happen when I saw him next, so when he swaggered into the saloon surrounded by his bawdy squad-mates, I nearly choked on my pint.

As I spluttered and honked, my new mates finding this hilarious, I realised that there was nothing I could do about it, no where I could hide and sure enough, as I blinked through my watery vision, he was staring straight at me. Our gazes locked, and he gave me a curt nod of greeting.

I looked away, making like I hadn’t seen him, and laughed nervously along with the others, pretending to mock my inability to manage my own drink.  When I looked back, he had turned away. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Whatever it was that I’d got from Riley, I’d got it bad. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, every beat sending another tidal wave towards my cock. He was leaning over the bar, his arse thrust out like an invitation to me, its twin curves of muscle bulging beneath the denim. A chunk of memory smashed over my head: my hands spreading those cheeks, clutching the firm muscle in my grip-

“Oy!”

“What?” I jerked.

“Are you all right?” Tony looked at me quizzically. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Aye.” I replied, laughing to cover my nervous embarrassment. “Something like that.”

 

 

I made my mind up as soon as I got home: I had to get out of town, had to flush Riley right out of my system before I went back to work. Of course, this was easy enough to say, but trying to find a short-notice hook-up was easier said than done, which is why I was now watching the Welsh countryside flash past at ninety miles per hour as the train hammered towards Cardiff and the promise of sexual oblivion.

Whilst I’d been limping around in rehab, I’d heard that one of the saunas had been gutted and everyone seemed to be raving about it. I wasn’t getting my hopes up, but a wee bit of research had thrown up that there was a gym practically next door, and in my experience that usually attracted the sort of thing I’d be interested in. Lulled by the gentle rocking motion of the carriage, I drifted slowly into an idle daydream of the firm flesh that I imagined awaited me.

Of course, fantasy and reality are two completely different things. The truth was that whilst the surroundings were, as promised, vaguely pleasing to the eye, the contents less so. I walked past several skinny wee twinks that must have been just skimming over their eighteenth birthdays, and some locals who I considered to be well past their sell-by date. My dreams of a muscle-bound Adonis fresh from pumping iron were slowly crumbling, until I reached the sauna room itself.

The dry air burnt my throat as I crossed the threshold, leaving a lingering taste of musk, sweat and pine in my mouth. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the gloom . Draped in shadow, a naked body was lounging along a bench on the far wall. My eyes took in the swell of muscle on the thighs, the firm, flat torso, and my cock immediately jerked awake.

I took a deep breath and sat down on the bench opposite, staring into the darkness with what I hoped was a look of smouldering sexual hunger. A little spark of excitement started in my stomach when I watched him shift his weight, and his face came into view.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” I exclaimed, jerking back.

Riley regarded me disdainfully. “Practising my crochet.” He drawled, and then continued “It’s a bloody _bathhouse._ What do you think I’m doing?”

 I looked away, feeling stupid. “Fuck’s sake.” I muttered.

“Yeah. We could’ve car pooled.” Riley’s lips curved into a sarcastic smile, and he sunk back into his previous position, propped up against the wall, one leg bent on the bench adjoining. I tried not to look, but a dirty-gold beam from one of the moody uplighters cut across his body, highlighting what lay between his legs.

I was glad of the darkness around me, because even with the dry, hot air of the room, I could feel the flush of embarrassment rising into my face. I knew I should stand up, and walk right of there, but somehow I couldn’t. Instead I watched a trickle of sweat, glistening in the low light, slowly travel over the skin over his chest, and mentally ran my fingers along its path.

“Fuck.” I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but I did. It came out as a breathy, trembling whisper.

“Is that a preposition?” I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine the smug smile, the raised eyebrow over his hooded eyes, as he said it. He was obviously loving this. I flashed immediately back to his expression on the bridge, his tongue running over his teeth as he appraised my flesh, and the hunger in his eyes.

The  subtle throb in between my legs had evolved into a massive fucking hard-on. I could rationally protest all I liked, but my cock knew what I really wanted, and I couldn’t hide it. I might as well have been waving a big flag emblazoned with “Fuck Me Because I'd Really Like That” on it. As I thought this, he reached down with his left hand and cupped his balls in the palm of his hand. Almost absent-mindedly he began to stroke himself, teasing the fine, reddish hair between his fingers.

I knew he could do a lot more with those hands and that cock, and I was thinking, really hard, about it. The blood was pumping through my body, rushing through my ears with each heartbeat. I felt dizzy in the heat of the room. I had been thinking about little else but his cock for days, and how it would feel inside me, as Riley’s powerful body thrust it between my cheeks.

He stood up, his sudden movement jerking me out of my dreamy wanderings. I hadn't even noticed it, but my hand was working its way around my own cock, signalling to him what my stubborn pride wouldn't consciously let me do. I swallowed, my throat dry from the scorching air, as he stood before me. I watched his strong fingers clasping his, the veins bulging beneath them. A drop of pre-cum balanced precariously on the head, glistening invitingly as it caught the light.

I didn't need any encouragement. My self-conscious embarrassment forgotten I leant forward and wrapped my lips around him, the salty-sweet taste of him, and his heady musk reawakened a slew of memories from the week before. I closed my eyes and reached around his body to clasp the hard muscle of his arse between my hands, driving his cock into my mouth. He moaned.

Gripping the base of his cock with one hand, I pulled back and licked gently at the head, tiny, cat-like laps of my tongue over the parts I remembered to be the most sensitive. I didn't want this to be over too quickly.

“Fuck!” he said, the word starting as a soft gasp, and ending as a stuttered giggle as his body twitched.

I felt his hand running over my head, his fingernails dragging through my hair and scraping across the back of my neck. I shuddered, my back arching. His face was in shadow as I looked up, but I knew he was enjoying himself as much as I was, so I carried on, getting myself into a good rhythm that I knew was teasing him: sucking him hard until he gave a tortured moan through clenched teeth, and then withdrawing back into more gentle attentions.

Eventually he snapped, pushing my teasing tongue away and pushing me down, encouraging me onto my back. _Yes_. My own cock was rigid with anticipation as he bent over me, his mouth over my tit. He drew it hard between his lips, teetering on the cusp of making me gasp with pain. I caught a flash of his face in the light as he wiped away the rivulets of sweat running across it, and saw the ravenous desire in his eyes.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sensation of his tongue slithering across my chest and his hand fumbling between my legs. I opened them wider, and he slid his hand around my balls, squeezing briefly and gently before he delved into my arse. I gasped as he pushed a finger inside. My body tensed involuntarily, and then relaxed as he started to firmly rub his thumb over the spot beneath my balls.

I was in such ecstasy that I didn't even notice anything amiss until I felt the sudden, sharp cold against my skin. I tried to twist away, but Riley had pinned me with his free arm as he dropped the ice cube between my legs. I could do nothing other than bite back the scream as he thrust it again the delicate skin of my arsehole.

 _“Fuck!”_ I growled through my clenched teeth. I couldn't shift Riley's weight from this position, no matter how much I squirmed, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to. The biting cold of the ice juxtaposed against the arid heat of the sauna on the rest of my skin was intense -too intense- teetering on the knife edge between pleasure and pain. I couldn't control myself, and was appalled at the mewling whimpers that I was making as he rubbed it slowly along my inner thigh.

Eventually, he dropped it, and I heard the cube skitter away over the floor.

“You're a sick bastard.” I wheezed, but he just laughed.

I lay there, exhausted from fighting him in the heat. When I opened my eyes, he was kneeling on the bench at my feet, determinedly slathering his already sheathed cock with lube. An electric surge of excitement shot down my spine, crackling over my skin. I'd been thinking about this for days, and my cock was rigid with anticipation. I swallowed, painfully and nervously, the hot air had scorched my throat. I tried to lick my lips, but my mouth was too dry.

His face was in shadow as he leant over me, drips of his sweat falling on my chest. I felt the pressure of his cock between my legs, the lube deliciously wet and warm as my arse yielded and he slipped inside.

I gasped as he pushed passed the tight muscles at the entrance. He was a big lad, and the feeling of his cock filling me, sliding over my prostate was incredible. For a moment he rested there, letting me relax  and adjust to him. I reached up and gripped his arm, feeling the swell of the muscles there, rock-hard beneath my fingers. Slowly he began to draw back, and I moaned.

My cock was jammed between us, the head sliding over Riley's sweat-soaked stomach, further adding to the swells of pleasure as he started to push into me again. He heavy breaths caressed my skin. This close I could smell the lingering scent of his cologne, an earthy, wild smell that I remembered from before. I breathed hungrily, filling my lungs with it.

He started to find a rhythm, and I knew he was being deliberately slow, but not just for my benefit. From his laboured breathing, I knew he was close, and it gave me a thrill to realise that he was trying to savour the experience of fucking me.

His cock found the edge of my prostate again, and this time as I moaned, he pushed hard into me. I bellowed, unable to control the sound, my body writhing with pleasure as he drove himself deep inside me. I felt his arm jerk and realised that I was dragging my nails across the skin, hard. He thrust again, just when I wasn't expecting it, developing a syncopated rhythm that kept me off balance. Each plunging shove was getting me closer, and it was driving me wild.

Finally, something in him snapped. The irregular, grinding strokes started to smooth out into an increasingly rapid thrusting. I could heard him grunting above me, but I barely noticed. I couldn't control myself anymore. His body was ramming into mine faster and faster, and my moans became bellows as the nebulous pleasure started to coalesce into a throbbing surge. I gritted my teeth, and came, screaming, as Riley collapsed onto my chest.

We lay there, spent, for a few minutes, Riley's exhausted gasps brushing over my soaked chest as flashes of purple swum across my vision. I knew I'd feel different later, but in that moment, I regretted nothing.

Author's note: The story has another chapter until completion, which is in the works!


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